You forgot to take your Potion tonight
by Possum132
Summary: Sybill Trelawney makes another prophecy and Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin and Severus Snape are left to dangle in the wind, helpless victims of Cruel Fate.
1. Chapter 1: Peter Pettigrew

**You forgot to take your Potion tonight**

_This vignette isn't part of the seven part series that starts with "Why Snape never eats here" – but people asked for the story, and I found that I couldn't say no to an opportunity to roast Remus Lupin over a slow fire. However, if you read the series you will get a better feel for the particular version of the Potterverse in which this story is set._

**Chapter 1: Peter Pettigrew**

When he was a rat, he mostly thought rat-like thoughts and did rat-like things - he ate, he slept, he gnawed ... but he always kept a sharp ear out for talk of the Dark Lord, and when the kids had been fed and bathed and packed off to bed, he often crept around the house - and he didn't hesitate to snoop into the parents' bedroom, either. He snooped into their room to listen to what Arthur and Molly Weasley said to each other when it was dark and quiet, when they were alone in bed together and there were no listening ears – and before Weasley started groping his wife, the dirty dog, and who would have thought that a weedy little balding guy like Weasley had it in him? Hell, they'd been married for years and had seven kids, you'd think the romance would have gone out of their marriage by now!

Sirius' escape from Azkaban had really rattled him - it had been splashed all over the _Daily Prophet_ and it had scared him shitless, because if Sirius can escape, maybe the others can ... and then he'd have both of them after him – Sirius _and_ his cousin Bella, the crazy bitch. The crazy, crazy bitch – somehow she'd managed to talk her way out of Azkaban, and then she and her little gang had gone after the Longbottoms and wound up back in prison again, how fucking insane was that? Bellatrix Lestrange had been mad enough before she went to Azkaban, but after twelve years in that place ... and she'd blame _him_, which was so bloody unfair, he had no idea what had happened, why everything had gone so totally pear-shaped! It should have been _easy_, the Dark Lord had powers other wizards couldn't even imagine ... terrible powers. Even now, a bodiless wreck, the Dark Lord was dangerous – Quirrell had somehow been under his thrall, and the Dark Lord's diary alone had the power to work his will, to open the Chamber of Secrets and loose a Basilisk in the school - and he was still caught between the devil and the deep blue sea.

The Dark Lord had terrible powers, and there was no one who could protect him, the Ministry was useless and Dumbledore was a Muggle-loving old fool. The Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was powerful, yes, and the only wizard the Dark Lord ever feared – but Dumbledore was still an old fool, and he'd known that he was making the right decision in taking the Dark Mark when the Dark Lord told him that he had a spy at Hogwarts. No, not even Hogwarts was a refuge, not when the Dark Lord had an agent there, on the inside. He'd thought at the time, is Dumbledore going senile, not to realise what side Snape is on? Sure, Snape's a master of Occlumency, but you'd only have to look at the slimy Slytherin sod to see who he belongs to! And Dumbledore thinks that Snape is working for _him!_

And then he'd felt a bit squeamish, knowing what the Dark Lord planned for Lily – he wouldn't kill her unless he had to, she was to be kept for Snape, his little reward for bringing the news of the prophecy. Yep, Lily was to be Snape's toy, and honestly it was better for her the way that things had turned out, she was better off dead than having that ugly greasy vicious bastard pawing at her. Come to think of it, Snape had probably fancied Lily when they were all still at school together, because those pure-blood Slytherin boys were all the same - they sneered at the Muggle-born and half-blood girls in the other Houses, but they couldn't keep their eyes off them on the Hogwarts Express, before they changed out of their Muggle skirts and jeans into school robes. They thought Muggle girls were tramps, just because they wore short skirts and tight jeans – big mistake, from what he knew of Muggle females, they were no easier to get into bed than witches, not unless you used a Confundus Charm ...

Poor sweet pretty Muggle-born Lily, she'd actually been _friendly_ with Snape at school, they'd been old Slughorn's pet NEWT students, she'd kept saying that he wasn't as bad as people made out - but she had no idea, no idea at all, of what he was really like. Snape was one of the Dark Lord's killers, and he'd do _anything_ for the Dark Lord – he'd executed his mate Regulus Black on the Dark Lord's orders, and he certainly wouldn't hesitate to kill _him_ if he was ordered to, no, he'd enjoy it, because James and Sirius had pranked him a bit at school ... yes, Snape would relish the job of killing him, even though he hadn't done anything, he'd only watched ...

Poor bloody Regulus, Sirius' little brother, he'd disappointed the Dark Lord and he'd been killed – and that was proof that no one was safe if they lost the Dark Lord's favour, because the Blacks were pure-blood wizarding royalty and Regulus' cousin Bellatrix was one of the Dark Lord's most trusted Death Eaters. And it was ironic, really, that Sirius had ended up in Azkaban, in the cell next to Bellatrix, and he was sorry about that, he really was ... and he hadn't wanted to hurt James and Lily, he hadn't wanted to get them killed, if he could have done something to save them, he would have, but what could he do? Dumbledore himself had offered to be their Secret-Keeper, why hadn't they accepted the offer? They'd practically committed suicide ... but Sirius wasn't likely to see it that way.

Snooping in the Weasleys' bedroom, that's how he'd heard the story that was going the rounds of the Ministry – Sirius had been talking in his sleep for weeks before he escaped, always the same words, _he's at Hogwarts ... he's at Hogwarts. _And it hadn't been hard to work out what _that_ meant, Sirius didn't mean Harry, or even Snape - Sirius was after _him_, though how Sirius knew that he spent most of his time at Hogwarts, Merlin only knew. Perhaps he'd seen that damn newspaper article, seen that damn photograph, seen him perched on Ron's shoulder, playing the part of the faithful familiar – and he'd known that was a mistake, he should have hidden in Ron's pocket - didn't Fudge say that Sirius had asked for the paper, wanted to do the crossword?

He'd trembled when he heard those words, thought of running away ... but he's lived as a wild rat, and it's a hard life. He'd thought of hiding, of only coming out after the kids had left for Hogwarts, but that was dangerous, too. He wasn't scared of the kids, they weren't yet sufficiently knowledgeable about magic to spot an Animagus, but the parents might. Yes, they might spot something odd about him, if they were the ones feeding him, paying attention to him ... that's one of the reasons he'd chosen the Weasleys, the number of kids and pets in that house pretty much guaranteed that he'd never get more than a passing glance from an adult. He'd started off hiding in the garden, dodging gnomes, stealing chicken food, reading the _Daily Prophet_ when it was chucked out, listening at windows ... but when Charlie found him, he'd taken the risk of becoming a pet. And it hadn't been a bad life, Charlie had passed him onto Percy, and Percy had passed him onto Ron, and that was OK – after all, he'd skipped the twins, who were, frankly, bad news.

No, it wasn't a bad life, except for the fact that he might as well have been neutered, he might be a rat Animagus but that didn't mean that he wanted to hump female rats, _urgh._ It wasn't a _bad_ life, except that he lived like a monk, he hardly ever even saw an attractive female for close to ten months of the year – Hogwarts might be teeming with gorgeous teenage witches, but they didn't frequent the Gryffindor boys' dormitories, even if there was no enchantment to prevent them, and he didn't wander the corridors – not with Mrs Norris on the loose, and the ever-present risk of running into McGonagall, she was an Animagus herself and she'd recognise him in both his human and animal forms. Well, maybe it wasn't a great life, living as a rat, but at least he was safe – and Ron never did anything much to him, he'd tried to turn him yellow on the Hogwarts Express in first year, but that was about it.

It had given him a nasty turn, seeing Harry on the train, Merlin's beard but he was the living image of James at the same age! He'd been pretending to be asleep in Ron's pocket, but he'd heard every word, _I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else_, and that had given him a twinge, because he had nothing against the kid - he had nothing against James and Lily, either. And he'd thought, _me and the kid, we're both victims of the Dark Lord, and of the prophecy. And if the Dark Lord ever comes back, he'll be after both of us ... _

And they were victims, both him and Harry, they'd both been doomed once the Dark Lord decided that Harry was the child that the prophecy pointed to - the Dark Lord had found out from Snape who the Potters' friends were, and then the Dark Lord had come after him. The Dark Lord had given him convincing demonstrations of his power, the Dark Lord had shown him some of the things that he could do, and he'd nearly wet himself with fear ... and the Dark Lord had been gathering power, gathering followers, it was only a question of time before the Dark Lord overthrew the Ministry. So he'd taken the Dark Mark, but he hadn't wanted to hurt anybody, he'd just been trying to save himself.

Hell, he wasn't really cut out to be a Death Eater, he didn't hate Muggles or want to kill people for fun, not like the others - the sick bastards. And not all of them were in Azkaban, not by a long shot, he'd heard all about the trials that followed the fall of the Dark Lord – Lucius Malfoy had got off scot free, cleared of all charges on the grounds of bewitchment under the Imperius Curse, and _that_ was a load of crap; Karkaroff had bought his way out of Azkaban by naming names; and Snape ... he'd suckered Dumbledore completely, what had Dumbledore said, _Severus Snape is now no more a Death Eater than I am. _A lot of Death Eaters had walked free, and if they knew what he'd done, they'd blame him, too – and they'd probably kill him, revenge for the fall of their precious Dark Lord ...

He'd only been trying to save himself, and with the benefit of hindsight he'd made a dreadful mistake – he'd ended up spending twelve years living as a rat, and this year it had looked as even that miserable existence was going to be taken away from him, because on top of Sirius' escape from Azkaban, he'd found out that Remus was teaching at Hogwarts. His heart had nearly stopped when he saw Remus on the train - Remus had seen him transform a thousand times, Remus would know him at once, if Remus got so much as a glimpse of him ...

But he'd been glad enough of Remus' presence when Remus drove the Dementor away, even in his Animagus form the thing had affected him, made him re-live the worst experience of his life – his branding with the Dark Mark. Bellatrix had laughed at him, told him, _it will sting a bit_ – and that had been the understatement of the century! And when it was over, he realised that he'd made a terrible, terrible mistake – he belonged to the Dark Lord now, he couldn't dodge, he couldn't run, he couldn't hide ... and there was no way back, no escape, it was a lifetime of service or death.

The Hogwarts Express had been an ordeal this year – between Crookshanks, Remus, and the Dementor, he'd had a hell of a time, and he'd been a wreck by the time they'd got to the school - and then things hadn't got any better. He'd kept out of sight, he'd virtually lived in Ron's pocket, he'd dodged Hermione's hideous orange cat-monster, but he could hardly eat, he could hardly sleep – how could he eat or sleep when not even Gryffindor Tower was safe? The last straw was when he found out that Harry had the Marauders Map, the Map that showed the location of every person in Hogwarts, the Map that could betray him – so he'd bolted, he'd got out of the castle, and just in time, too, because Sirius had come back, and this time he'd got through the portrait hole.

But it had been out of the frying pan and into the fire, really, in Hagrid's hut - Fang was harmless enough but that bloody Hippogriff wasn't, and what kind of wizard lets a _Hippogriff_ sleep on his bed? But he couldn't disappear into the Forbidden Forest, that wasn't safe, either, it was crawling with Acromantula and other deadly things – and he needed to know what was going on. He needed to know if Sirius had been caught, if it might be safe to come out of hiding – not safe to go back to Hogwarts, it wouldn't be safe while the Map still existed, but perhaps he could find another home, with another wizard family ... and that had been another disastrous miscalculation, because now he's facing his worst nightmare. Well, maybe it's not his _worst _nightmare, because the Dark Lord is his worst nightmare, but he's trapped in a room with no less than three wizards who will kill him if they can - a Death Eater, a werewolf and a madman who's been in Azkaban for twelve years – so how could things possibly get worse?

He's struggling in Ron's hands, and the stupid boy won't let go of him, he'd bite the kid but Ron is holding him in a grip of iron, and he can't reach around far enough to sink his teeth into the boy's hand ... but there's hope, it looks like Snape doesn't know anything about him, Snape thinks that Remus was helping Sirius to get into the castle! Snape isn't listening to Remus, he's pointing his wand at Remus' chest, there's a murderous gleam in those black eyes and Snape is saying something about _two more for Azkaban tonight_ ... but Remus has still got his wand, if they duel, there's a chance that he can get away in the confusion.

He thinks, why doesn't Remus draw his wand, why doesn't he fight with Snape? Bloody Remus, he never _does_ anything, it's all talk, he's taunting Snape about that business back in sixth year that nearly got Sirius expelled instead of reaching for his wand! And now it's too late, Remus is entangled with cords ... Snape is turning on Sirius now, his wand is pointed straight between Sirius' eyes – it'll be the _Avada Kedavra_, a direct hit, straight between the eyes - Snape might be a loyal Death Eater, he might think that Sirius betrayed the Potters to the Dark Lord, but he's not going to try to help Sirius, he's going to kill him!

He braces himself for the flash of green light, this will be his chance to wriggle free, to slip away between the cracks - but Snape isn't doing anything, his face is twisted with hatred, but he isn't doing anything.

Hermione is babbling something about Snape making a mistake, and Snape starts shrieking at her, he looks quite deranged – Merlin, he must _really_ hate Sirius – and Sirius is saying he'll come quietly provided that Ron brings his rat up the castle. His stomach turns inside out at these words, but hope floods back when he hears Snape speak again, using that smooth, malevolent voice he always used when he was being threatening, back in school ... "Up to the castle? I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the Dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black ... pleased enough to give you a little kiss, I daresay ... I'll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the Dementors will have a kiss for him, too ..."

He could almost whimper with relief, with Sirius and Remus out of the way, he'll be safe, there'll be no one to accuse him, though it still might be best to slip away at the first opportunity he gets ...

But Harry is striding across the room, blocking the door, looking grim and determined and more like James at the age of thirteen than ever, and he's speaking up for Remus, asking why, if Remus was helping Sirius, he hadn't attacked Harry when he got the chance? And now Harry and Snape are shouting at each other, they're both livid with anger, it's just like that day in third year when James and Snape got into a Muggle duel and James punched Snape and broke his nose - Snape snivelled like a girl that day, that's how he got the nick-name "Snivellus". He can't remember what the fight was about - there never needed to be a reason, did there, for James and Sirius to have a little fun with Snape? And he can't help feeling a bit scared for Harry, because Snape isn't a stringy undersized thirteen year old boy any more, he's a grown wizard now, and he looks completely insane with rage – Merlin knows what he might do if he loses his grip, forgets that if he gives himself away and does serious damage to the Boy Who Lived, he'll end up in Azkaban, too.

Then three voices yell _Expelliarmus!_, there's a tremendous blast, and Snape is knocked against the wall, knocked unconscious – but Ron is still clutching him to his chest, he still can't get free ... and Sirius is reaching his claw-like hands out for him, he wriggles frantically ... but Ron won't give him up, he's a good kid, really, he won't let anyone hurt his dear old Scabbers ...

Sirius is pulling a crumpled piece of paper out of his filthy, tattered robes ... it _was_ that blasted newspaper article that gave him away ... Sirius is telling the whole story, telling them how he'd cut off the finger on his left hand - shit, he's completely rooted now, all they have to do is look at his left paw ...

But what else could he do? When he'd heard that the Dark Lord had fallen, when he'd realised the mistake that he'd made, he'd known that it was only a matter of time before they came after him, all of them, the Aurors, the Order and the Death Eaters - he'd had to frame Sirius and disappear, it was his only chance!

Ron and Harry aren't convinced, Harry is shouting at Sirius – but Sirius is telling them how James and Lily switched Secret-Keepers, and now the crunch is coming, Remus is asking Ron to hand him over ... Ron is hesitating ... Ron is holding him out, he squeaks desperately, he twists and turns, writhing and twisting in Remus' hand, but Sirius has Snape's wand, and they're going to do it together on the count of three, they're going to cast the Homorphus Charm and force him to assume his human form.

There's a flash of blue-white light, another blinding flash of light, and he can't stop it, he can't help it ... he's standing in front of them, cringing and wringing his hands, glancing towards the door and back again, he'd make a run for it but they'd stun him, they've got wands in their hands - his only chance is to persuade Remus that Sirius is a Death Eater, that Sirius is lying.

He pleads with Remus, pleads with Remus to help him ... tells him that he'd known that Sirius would be after him, that he's lived in fear for twelve years.

Remus furrows his brow, asks how he knew that Sirius was going to break out of Azkaban - well of course he hadn't known that, he still doesn't know how Sirius got out of Azkaban.

He remembers that only Death Eaters call the Dark Lord by that title, he mustn't call him the Dark Lord ... shrilly, he shouts, "He's got dark powers the rest of us can only dream of! How else did he get out of there? I suppose He Who Must Not Be Named taught him a few tricks!"

Sirius laughs, a horrible, mirthless, laugh. "Voldemort, teach me tricks?" he says.

He flinches, it is forbidden to use that name, the Dark Lord forbids it, and the Dark Mark used to hurt if that name was used, a little reminder from the Dark Lord of his power.

Sirius is speaking again, taunting him, confirming his fears, saying, "You haven't been hiding from _me_ for twelve years. You've been hiding from Voldemort's old supporters. I heard things in Azkaban, Peter ... they think you're dead, or you'd have to answer to them ... I've heard them screaming all sorts of things in their sleep. Sounds like they think the double-crosser double-crossed them. Voldemort went to the Potters' on your information ... and Voldemort met his downfall there. And not all Voldemort's supporters ended up in Azkaban, did they? There are still plenty out here, biding their time, pretending they've seen the error of their ways ... If they ever got wind that you were still alive, Peter - "

His head is spinning at the sound of the dreaded name, he squeaks and protests - Remus is asking why an innocent man would want to spend twelve years living as a rat – and he must use the name, he must be brave, he must convince Remus ...

He squeals, "Innocent but scared! If Voldemort's supporters were after me, it's because I put one of their best men into Azkaban – the spy, Sirius Black!"

Sirius is growling at him, accusing him, saying that it must have been the finest moment of his life, telling the Dark Lord that he could hand James and Lily to him ... doesn't Sirius understand? He hadn't wanted to do it, he'd hated doing it – but James and Sirius and Remus couldn't protect him from the Dark Lord! The real world wasn't like Hogwarts, where it had always been four against one, it wasn't just hexes in the corridors, detentions and House points – it wasn't a game, it was deadly serious, it was _war_, and his life was on the line.

Hermione, the sweet sensible girl, is asking why, if he belongs to the Dark Lord, he's never tried to hurt Harry. Well of course he's never tried to hurt Harry, why would he do that? Harry's never tried to hurt _him_, Harry's been nice to him – fed him Fudge Flies ...

Sirius is sneering at him, laughing at him, saying that he wouldn't do anything for a wreck of a wizard who'd lost all his powers ... saying that he wouldn't go back to the Dark Lord unless he was sure that it was safe to rejoin him, but Sirius doesn't know what he's saying, Sirius doesn't know what it's like to have the Dark Mark burned into your arm! If the Dark Lord ever comes back, if the Dark Lord is ever restored to power, if he ever feels the Dark Mark burn again, what else can he do but answer the summons? Because the Dark Lord's anger will be terrible, and his only hope will be to beg and to grovel and to crawl ...

But Hermione is still asking questions, asking how Sirius broke out of Azkaban ... Sirius is telling them that he'd survived in Azkaban in his Animagus form, as a dog - and now Sirius is saying terrible things about him, saying that he'd schemed to be at Hogwarts with Harry, ready to deliver the last Potter to the Dark Lord if he ever rose again!

He stares at Sirius, hypnotised with horror, because nothing has been further from his mind, he's just been trying to stay safe, stay out of sight - and he fervently hopes that the Dark Lord never does rise again. But that must be why Snape has stayed at Hogwarts, he's always wondered why Snape stayed at the school when he seemed to hate teaching so much ... Snape would be cunning enough to come up with that plan, buying his way back into the Dark Lord's favour by bringing Harry to him!

Sirius is looking at Harry, and his eyes are fixed on Harry, too, because Harry is the key - if Harry believes Sirus, he's a lost cause. Sirius is saying that he's seen Harry play Quidditch, that Harry flies a broom as well as James ... Sirius is saying he would have rather died than betray James and Lily, and Harry is nodding, he believes Sirius!

He falls to his knees, grovelling, but Sirius is kicking out at him, calling him filth ... he turns to Remus, Remus was the prefect, the fair-minded one, Remus will give him a chance, Remus will listen to him ...

He writhes imploringly, squeaks, "Remus! You don't believe this ... wouldn't Sirius have told you if they'd changed the plan?"

Remus replies, "Not if he thought I was the spy, Peter. I assume that's why you didn't tell me, Sirius?"

He thinks, distractedly, it's not my fault if everyone thought Remus was the spy! Remus is a werewolf, a Dark creature, and all the werewolves were going over to the Dark Lord!

And now Sirius and Remus are rolling up their sleeves, they're going to kill him on the spot, together, without even a trial, they're going to _execute _him ... Sirius was always cruel, and Remus always followed his lead ...

He scrambles around to Ron, pleading to him, he's been a good pet to Ron, a good rat, but Ron is shrinking from him, wrenching his leg away from him.

He turns to Hermione, she's a kind girl, soft-hearted, she won't let them hurt him - he clutches at her robes, but she backs away.

There's only Harry left, his last chance, and Harry is like James, James grew up a lot once he started going out with Lily, and he was an Auror, a Ministry wizard, trained to bring prisoners in alive if he could - he wasn't just one of Dumbledore's crazy vigilantes. He kneels and trembles and begs, "Harry ... Harry ...you look just like your father ... just like him ..."

Sirius is shouting at him, but he ignores him, shuffles towards Harry, begging for mercy – Sirius and Remus are seizing him, throwing him onto the floor, Sirius is saying that he sold James and Lily to the Dark Lord, and he can't deny it, but Sirius doesn't understand, Sirius doesn't know what the Dark Lord is really like, Sirius has never been in his presence, never felt the fear that the Dark Lord inspires.

He whimpers, he never meant it to happen, the Dark Lord forced him, but Sirius isn't listening, he's shouting, and there's a look of awful anger on his face.

Lupin is saying goodbye, they're raising their wands ... and he knows that it's all over, he's going to die.

"NO!" yells Harry, running forward, facing the drawn wands. "You can't kill him. You can't."

Remus looks amazed, Sirius is snarling, but Harry is determined, Harry is saying that they'll take him up to the castle – it will be Azkaban, but he's not going to die ...

He wraps his arms around Harry's legs, spluttering his gratitude - Harry throws his hands off him in disgust, but Sirius and Remus are lowering their wands, it will be Azkaban and they say it's a living death in Azkaban, but while there's life there's hope ...

And now they're blundering along the tunnel to the Whomping Willow, he's manacled between Remus and Ron, and Remus and Sirius will kill him if he transforms, but it's a long way up to the castle, and anything might happen, he might still have a chance to escape. Snape is still unconscious, but he might come to before they reach the castle, and if he does, there's bound to be a brawl, because Snape is going to be really savage when he finds out what's happened. When he realises that Sirius is using his wand, Snape will go wild - another man handling his wand, that's pretty much the biggest insult, the biggest humiliation for a wizard - and he only needs a moment when Sirius and Remus are distracted, the kids aren't a real threat, he can transform in an instant, escape the manacles, and get away.

They've emerged from the hole, they're tramping through the grounds, the castle is getting closer and closer, he's running out of time, he's really starting to panic – and then he realises that behind those heavy clouds, there's a full moon, and as soon as the moon breaks through the clouds, Remus is going to transform, and he'll get his chance ...

A cloud shifts, they're bathed in moonlight, and it starts, exactly as he anticipated - Remus goes rigid, shakes and snarls ... he knows what's happening, and so does Sirius, they've seen Remus transform a dozen times ... Sirius assumes his Animagus form, struggles with the werewolf ... he spots Remus' wand lying on the ground, he dives for it, Ron is in the way and that god-awful cat is trying to stick its claws into him ... he knocks them out of the way with stunning spells, but then Harry yells _Expelliarmus!_ and Remus' wand flies out of his hand, and he bolts - he transforms, and scuttles away into the grass.

He doesn't stop scurrying until he's well inside the Forbidden Forest, and then he creeps under a bush, ears pricked and nose twitching for danger, and mulls over his situation. He thinks, I've got to get out of here, get out of Britain, because the kids will back Sirius and Remus up, McGonagall might even be able to recognise me from that bloody photo - and how many ordinary rats live for twelve years? Dumbledore will believe them ... and he's got influence with Fudge. They'll sic the Auror Corps on to me now, every man's hand and every man's wand will be against me – the Ministry, the Order and the Death Eaters – and how long before one of them catches up with me? How long have I got to live?

And then he thinks of his last resort, _if I can find the Dark Lord, help him, restore him to a body - he'll be grateful, he'll forgive me, he'll protect me ..._

His stomach churns with fear, he'd be sick just at the thought of it but a rat can't vomit - that's why the Muggles use rats for their nasty experiments - but there's no avoiding it, only the Dark Lord can protect him against this many enemies, and there's nothing else that he can do, nowhere else that he can go - he's got no other choices, no other options.


	2. Chapter 2: Remus Lupin

**You forgot to take your Potion tonight**

**Chapter 2: Remus Lupin**

He'd regained consciousness – human consciousness – at dawn, but for a long time he'd just lain on the ground, curled up into a ball, soggily trying to puzzle out where he was, and he could tell that it had been a particularly bad transformation from the way that he felt - it was something like being concussed, and something like being very, very hung-over.

At first he'd wondered why he wasn't in his cellar, his dank, smelly, _secure_ cellar, wearing his chain and his muzzle – the muzzle was necessary because if he broke his chain, if he broke through the trapdoor of the cellar, he'd still be safe, he'd still be unable to bite - and then he'd remembered that he was at Hogwarts, and he should be curled up under the desk in his office. He should be feeling OK, he should be feeling fine, just a little tired, because the Wolfsbane Potion is marvellous stuff, it's a real breakthrough in the treatment of Lycanthropy - for those lucky enough to be able to get it, because there are only half a dozen wizards in Europe capable of brewing the stuff. If he's taken his Portion, he shouldn't be feeling like crap, and he shouldn't be lying on the ground in the Forbidden Forest, with the taste of blood in his mouth.

The Forest! He'd struggled to his feet at once when he realised that he was in the Forest because even in his post-transformation daze he'd known that the Forest was no place for a wizard without a wand, it was infested with Acromantula, for a start - and Centaurs, and they didn't like werewolves, transformed or not transformed. So he'd blundered around for a bit, until he'd found the edge of the Forest, and he wasn't far from Hagrid's hut - and Hagrid had been standing outside, rattling a bucket and calling, "Bucky, Bucky, where are yer boy, c'mon, Bucky, Bucky ..."

When Hagrid had seen him, Hagrid had looked anxious – which surprised him, because Hagrid was one of the very few people who knew that he was a werewolf, and weren't afraid of him. Dumbledore wasn't afraid of him - he couldn't imagine Dumbledore being afraid of _anything_; and Mad-Eye wasn't afraid of him – but Mad-Eye would put him down without hesitation if he ever ran amok while transformed, if he was ever out under a full moon and the Aurors were called, Mad-Eye would kill him, and the _Avada Kedavra_ kills a werewolf just as effectively as a Muggle silver bullet; and Hagrid wasn't afraid of him – Hagrid was strong enough to break even a werewolf's back if he had to.

Hagrid hadn't minced words when he'd limped up to the hut, he'd come right to the point and asked, "Did you eat anythin' last night, Professor Lupin?"

He'd puzzled over that for a moment, he could taste blood in his mouth and there was blood on his finger-nails, but he didn't feel full, he didn't feel as if he'd fed, quite the reverse – he was _starving_. He must have attacked an animal in the Forest, but it had got away ... so he'd said no, and Hagrid had beamed, and insisted that he come in, and have a cup of tea and some breakfast.

He'd sat at Hagrid's table, sipping his sweet, milky tea and thinking that Hagrid looked like he'd been out at the Three Broomsticks last night, Hagrid looked the way that he felt – really seedy. He'd watched Hagrid cooking up what had been in the bucket – a tangle of sausages and some bacon – with plenty of eggs and fried potatoes, and although he mostly just felt hungry, he'd also felt a bit edgy, because if he was roaming the Forbidden Forest the morning after a full moon, _something_ had gone wrong – had he forgotten to take his Potion? But nothing too bad could have happened, if he'd attacked a student the place would be crawling with Aurors by now, and Hogwarts seemed its usual quiet and sleepy pre-breakfast self ...

He'd wondered what had happened, eventually his memory would come back, but it was like trying to find a lost object, you have to retrace your steps ... so what had he been doing, what was his last clear memory of the previous night?

He could remember being in his office, brooding over his coming transformation - the Wolfsbane Potion stops him feeling the pain and lets him keep his mind, but he still has all the other problems, the hypersensitive nose, for example, and he really doesn't need that. It tells him more than he wants to know, especially about pretty Cho Chang, Cho is just a girl, she's only just turned fifteen, but she smells like a woman, and a very desirable young woman, too. But it didn't do any real harm, did it, just to think about her? It was only a harmless fantasy, because he'd never touch any of the young Hogwarts witches - that would be _wrong_, and he would never, _never_ betray Dumbledore's trust - but what was he supposed to do? Hell, women never looked at him from one year to the next, women never looked at a tatty, unemployed werewolf who was on the wrong side of thirty-five - and here he was, surrounded by gorgeous teenage witches, and some of them thought that he was sweet ...

He'd thought, stoutly, there's nothing wrong with it, it's normal, it's a healthy outlet, and every wizard does it, it's nothing to be ashamed of. And then he'd thought - a little bitterly - and it doesn't make hair grow on the palms of your hands, if it did, I'd have hairy hands all month, not just at the full moon ...

That damned full moon, it would be rising soon, and he'd known that he really ought to go down to the dungeons and take another goblet of Potion – but he'd shrunk from facing the malevolent genius who lurked in that gloomy office full of nasty things pickled in jars. To be brutally honest, he didn't like being alone with Severus because when there was no one else around, Severus never let up about the Marauders - he never stopped taunting, _now that you're back at Hogwarts you must be missing your old friends, Potter and Black and Pettigrew_. He'd thought, miserably, Severus never misses an opportunity to stick the knife in, though I think Albus must have warned him against saying anything in front of Harry ...

Harry! And it had hurt to think that Severus distrusts him so completely ... Severus is convinced that he must be helping Sirius, is convinced that he can't be trusted with Harry – and he'd known that Severus had gone straight to Dumbledore the day that Severus had found him alone with Harry, pretending that he was showing Harry his Grindylow. And then he'd thought, Severus is more of a wolf than he knows, as far as Severus is concerned, he's the beta male of this pack, and it's going to stay that way - he's so jealous and suspicious, the way that he guards his place at the table, close to Albus, and his favourite armchair in the staff room, he's like a dog guarding a bone ...

And it had hurt even more to think of that other dog, to think of Padfoot – and even after all that's happened, even after Sirius broke into Gryffindor Tower and got as far as the third year boys' dormitory, it was still agony to know that Sirius was the traitor. Sirius had loved James, loved him as a brother – loved him _more_ than a brother, because he'd loved James more than he loved his brother Regulus. And it was a mystery past fathoming as to why Sirius had gone over to Voldemort, why he'd taken the Dark Mark – that was something that had come out after the fall of Voldemort, when the Aurors had some prisoners to interrogate – why Sirius had allowed that repulsive brand to be burned into his arm.

He could understand why Severus had joined Voldemort - given who his friends were, his notorious interest in the Dark Arts, and, to be frank, his thoroughly unpleasant personality - it would have been more surprising if he hadn't. The mystery here was why Severus had returned and why the Headmaster trusted him, but Dumbledore absolutely refused to be drawn on that topic – and it was clear that Severus' behaviour towards Harry and Neville wasn't up for discussion, either. Severus' harshness towards Harry he could understand – Severus had hated James, and Harry was the living image of James – but his nastiness towards Neville was a puzzle. Neville was a bit of a bumbler, he struggled in all of his classes except Herbology, but that didn't seem enough to explain why Severus felt the need to terrorise Neville ... and the Boggart lesson was unfortunate, Severus had been really humiliated, but honestly he'd brought it on himself – the way that he brought most of his misfortunes on himself, because he hadn't changed at all, he was still the same nasty Slytherin bastard that he'd been when he was a student.

And then he'd thought, Severus can't point the finger at me, sure, I'm a werewolf – but Severus was a Death Eater, and Mad-Eye has dropped a few hints about what's in his Ministry file, some very unpleasant things indeed ... and he _chose_ to become a Death Eater, he did _that_ to himself! I didn't choose to be bitten by Fenrir Greyback, and can Severus imagine what my life was like before I came to Hogwarts, I had _no_ friends, none at all ... but those Slytherin pure-bloods always stick together, he always had his little gang, Lucius Malfoy and the rest, most of whom turned out to be Death Eaters – half of them are still in Azkaban ...

Thinking about Azkaban had given him a jolt - no one has ever escaped from Azkaban, so how had Sirius managed it? And how is Sirius getting into Hogwarts?

He'd remembered the night that Sirius talked his way past Sir Cadogan – and when he'd seen that the one-eyed witch's passage remained unguarded and unblocked, he'd actually gone to the Headmaster's office, ready to make a full confession. He'd lost his nerve, though, when the oak door with the brass knocker in the shape of a griffon had swung open and he'd seen Severus standing there, bristling with hatred and contempt - because Severus was not going to give him a chance to speak to Dumbledore alone if he could possibly help it, and he couldn't bear it, he couldn't bear confessing everything while Severus gloated and sneered.

And if Dumbledore knew the full story, if he'd known that Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs had run free in the Forbidden Forest every full moon, when the werewolf should have been safely confined in the Shrieking Shack - what would Dumbledore think? Dumbledore had believed him and James when they said they hadn't known about Sirius' stupid idea of a joke in sixth year, the stupid prank that had nearly got Severus killed, but if Dumbledore knew about what they'd done, if the Headmaster knew how they'd deceived him - would Dumbledore still believe him, and would he still trust him with Harry? So he'd said nothing, he'd dithered – and when the Marauders' Map miraculously came into his hands the next Saturday afternoon, it had been an absolute godsend, because all he had to do was watch the Map, it would tell him how Sirius was getting into the castle ...

The Map, _yes_, the Map was important, it had something to do with what had happened last night ... he'd been in his office, checking the Map, because he didn't trust Harry and his friends to stay safe in the castle, not when Buckbeak was due to be executed – they'd try to sneak out to see Hagrid ... and that's something else that doesn't make sense, why had Hagrid been calling to his Hippogriff when the animal must be dead?

He'd asked Hagrid about Buckbeak, and Hagrid had looked blissful, and told him that the Hippogriff had escaped, he mustn't have tied him up properly, he'd been celebrating all night ...

So he'd gone back to munching on his breakfast and trying to pick up the threads of his memory - he'd been in his office, he'd been watching the Map ... and he'd seen something unbelievable, something that had caused him to run out of his office, down three flights of stairs, out through the Entrance Hall and across the grounds to the Whomping Willow. He'd scrambled down the tunnel as fast as he could, he'd burst into the Shrieking Shack, he'd heard Hermione screaming, WE'RE UP HERE, WE'RE UP HERE – SIRIUS BLACK – _QUICK_, and he'd raced through the bedroom door ...

And then it was a complete blank, he couldn't remember anything more, no, that wasn't true, he could remember fragments, he could remember Ron shrinking away from him, gasping, _Get away from me, werewolf ... _and then Ron shouting, HE'S NOT PETER, HE'S SCABBERS!

It had started to come back to him, the rat writhing and twisting in Ron's hands, and the shock – the shock of recognising a wizard who supposedly had been dead for twelve years, and the shock of seeing Sirius again, he should have been ready, he should have been prepared - after all, he'd seen the wanted posters, he'd seen the photographs of the sunken-faced man with the long, matted hair on the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ - but he'd nearly wept at the sight of Sirius. He'd been close to tears at the sight of the ghastly wreck of the man who'd once been so handsome, so full of life, so full of charm, because Sirius was irresistible when he set out to charm someone - friends, girls, teachers, he could charm them all ...

The kids had needed to be convinced of Sirius' innocence and he didn't blame them, Sirius had wanted to kill Peter on the spot, but Harry had a right to know, and Ron, too – he'd kept Peter as a pet – so he'd told them the whole story. He'd even told them the bits that he was ashamed of, how he'd said nothing to Dumbledore because he was afraid of losing Dumbledore's trust, and about the prank that had nearly cost Severus' his life – he'd edited that a little bit, said that Severus had only glimpsed him at the end of the tunnel, in truth it had been a lot worse than that, but he didn't want to frighten the kids, Harry and Hermione were Muggle-raised, they didn't really understand about werewolves, but Ron knew, and he was scared enough just being in the same room with a werewolf.

Severus, Severus ... he'd turned up at some stage, what had happened? Ah, now he could remember, Severus had appeared from nowhere, and he'd been so bloody aggressive, he just wouldn't listen, he'd said, _two more for Azkaban tonight_, and then he'd gloated over how it would look to Dumbledore. And it could be made to look bad, very bad - it could be made to look like a plot between a Dark creature and a convicted Death Eater to lure the Boy Who Lived out of the safety of Hogwarts, and to kill him in the Shrieking Shack.

He'd lost his temper with Severus then, he'd thought, why can't Severus just get over it? How can he still be holding a grudge, all these years afterwards? OK, what Sirius did was incredibly stupid, but how on earth could Severus think that it was a plot to murder him? Sweet Merlin, if he _had_ killed Severus, it would have been expulsion for Sirius, and possibly a stint in Azkaban - and it would have been far worse for him, he would have been handed over to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures for execution. How could Severus possibly think Sirius wanted _that_ to happen? And hadn't Sirius suffered enough, he was an innocent man and he'd spent twelve years in Azkaban!

So he'd said, _Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?_ But Severus still wouldn't listen, he'd gone berserk, bound him in cords, and then Severus had turned on Sirius, he'd pointed his wand straight between Sirius' eyes – and he'd thought, Severus is going to kill Sirius, it'll be the _Avada Kedavra_ ... Merlin, I knew Severus hated Sirius – but this much?

Hermione had dared to say something about Severus making a mistake, and Severus had started shrieking at her, he'd looked quite deranged, and then Sirius had said that he'd come quietly provided that Ron brought his rat up the castle ...

Severus had threatened Sirius with the Kiss, and he'd winced, remembering the conversation that he'd had with Harry, when he'd told Harry what would happen to Sirius if the Aurors caught him - and Sirius had begged Severus to look at the rat, but Severus just wouldn't listen, he was beyond reason ... and then he'd said something about a Kiss for the werewolf, too.

But Harry had been wonderful, he'd strode across the room, blocked the door, looking grim and determined and more like James at the age of thirteen than ever, and Harry had spoken up for him, asked why, if he was helping Sirius, he hadn't attacked Harry when he got the chance? Severus had started shouting, looking madder than ever, but Harry had stood up to Severus, even when Severus had threatened him - and then three voices had yelled _Expelliarmus!_ - there'd been a tremendous blast, and Severus had been knocked against the wall, knocked unconscious ...

Harry wasn't convinced that they were telling the truth, but he'd been prepared to listen – all three of the kids had been prepared to listen – he'd been able to persuade Ron to hand the rat over, and together he and Sirius had cast the Homorphus Charm, forced Peter to reveal himself, and he'd had nothing to say for himself – what could he say? Why would an innocent man choose to spend twelve years living as a rat?

And it had been horrible to watch, the oversized balding baby, blubbering and cowering, caught out in lie after lie ... Peter had crawled to Sirius, he'd dared to remind Sirius that they'd once been friends, and then Peter had turned to him, asked him why Sirius hadn't told him of the change in Secret-Keepers, and that had burned - Sirius hadn't told him because everyone thought that _he_ was the spy, just because he was a Dark creature, a werewolf.

He'd rolled up his sleeves, because even if there had been no formal trial, Wormtail deserved to die, and he'd been given a chance to defend himself – which was more than Sirius had got, because Bartemius Crouch had sent Sirius to Azkaban without a trial. He and Sirius would kill the rat together, and it would be execution, not murder.

Wormtail had known what was coming, he'd scuttled to each of the kids in turn, begging and pleading – and when the disgusting creature had dared to crawl to Harry, it had been too much. They'd thrown him onto the floor, Sirius had accused him, point-blank, and he couldn't deny it, Wormtail couldn't deny that he'd sold James and Lily to Voldemort. He'd squeaked out his pitiful excuses, whimpered that he'd been forced to do it, whined that Voldemort would have killed him ...

They'd raised their wands, they'd been ready to do it – ready to use an Unforgiveable Curse in front of three children – and then Harry had done something splendid, he'd refused to let them kill Peter, he'd refused to let his father's best friends become murderers.

And he couldn't help smiling at the memory - Harry is so much like James, the physical resemblance is uncanny, but it's more than that, Harry has so much of his father in him, he has so much of the best of James in him. James had been a bit of an arrogant berk as a teenager, but he'd grown up a lot once he started going out with Lily, and he'd been a brilliant Auror ... James would have been so proud of Harry ...

He could remember splinting Ron's leg, Hermione had been fussing about Severus, but Severus was fine, he'd just been knocked out, and it was a lot easier to leave him that way than to deal with another round of shouting and threats. Severus would be livid when he realised that he'd made a complete fool of himself in front of Harry, and enraged when he found out that Sirius had been using his wand – and they needed to get up to the castle as soon as possible, they didn't have time for explanations and arguments ... so they'd manacled Wormtail, and set off back up the tunnel.

He couldn't help eavesdropping on Sirius' conversation with Harry as they edged their way through the tunnel, and he'd felt a little embarrassed, it wasn't exactly private but it was personal ... Sirius had told Harry that he was Harry's godfather, had offered him a home, and Harry had been so happy and excited, he'd asked, _when can I move in? _

He'd basked for a moment in that memory ... and then he'd thought, what happened next? Why was I in the Forest this morning? Why wasn't I in my office, curled up, a harmless wolf ... and where did the blood come from?

But it's a blank, he can't remember _anything_ after they climbed out of the hole at the base of the Whomping Willow, his mind is a fog ... until a cloud shifts, he's bathed in moonlight and he can hear Hermione gasping, _He didn't take his potion tonight! He's not safe! _

And then he drops his knife and fork, leaps up from the table, shivering with the horror and fear and guilt of his worst nightmare. Is it Harry's blood on his fingernails, Harry's blood in his mouth? Or Ron's? Or Hermione's?

And what will he find in the Hospital Wing when he gets up to the castle? Three mauled, feverish, infected children - three new werewolves to credit to Fenrir Greyback's account?


	3. Chapter 3: Severus Snape

**You forgot to take your Potion tonight**

**Chapter 3: Severus Snape**

He hadn't regained consciousness until the full moon was high in the sky, and then he'd known by the pounding headache, the dizziness, and the nausea that it was concussion, not a stunning spell - and _Enervate_, even if he could cast the spell on himself, wouldn't do any good. The first thing he'd done was to prop himself up on one elbow and heave, and the second thing he'd done was to reach for his wand ... it wasn't in his robes, had he dropped it when he was knocked out? He'd whispered _Accio wand_ - wandless magic was feeble stuff but he could summon a light object like a wand over a short distance, and it had been a huge relief when his wand flew into his hand. He'd felt much better, much stronger, so he'd scrambled to his feet at once, and yes there was a lump on his head that felt as if it was the size of a hen's egg, and a trickle of dried blood on his face.

He'd known exactly where he was - about halfway between the Whomping Willow and the castle, not far from the lake - but he had no memory at all of how he came to be there, although with a concussion that wasn't surprising, confusion and amnesia were common after effects. He'd looked around, and the first thing he'd seen was the Dementors, retreating across the lake. Dementors! The Headmaster would be livid when he found out that the Dementors had invaded Hogwarts again!

The sight of the Dementors had brought on a fresh wave of nausea, Occlumency could keep Dementors at bay but he still didn't like them, having them around stirred up memories that he'd rather forget, so he'd retched up some more thin, bitter bile - and then he'd seen the body lying on the ground. He'd dropped on his knees beside it - sweet Merlin, it was Ronald Weasley, the boy wasn't dead, but he was unconscious ... and it looked as if he had a broken leg, someone had splinted it, with what looked like _Ferula_.

His first impulse had been to get the boy back to the castle, so he'd conjured a stretcher and levitated Weasley up on to it - though the effort had reminded him that he had the mother of all headaches - and then he'd thought,_ what the hell happened here tonight - and where are the rest of the Golden Trio?_ Potter and Granger surely wouldn't be far away - the _Ferula_ could be Granger's work, she might know the spell, she always read ahead of the coursework ... and he was disappointed in Granger, he'd thought that she at least would have been capable of working out that Lupin was a werewolf ...

He'd cursed Potter, why were the damned brat and his idiot friends out of the safety of the castle in the middle of the night, when there was a convicted murderer on the loose? Sometimes he thought the Boy Who Lived had a death wish ... didn't the little bastard know of his mother's sacrifice, or didn't he care? And he, he'd failed Lily once, he hadn't been able to save her - he hadn't been deep enough in the Dark Lord's plans - but he wasn't going to fail her again, he'd strain every nerve, every sinew, to save her child, even if the brat was the living reincarnation of his filthy father. And the boy was the weapon, the weapon against the Dark Lord.

So he'd stood there, his eyes raking the area around him - the moon was full tonight - and in the bright moonlight he'd seen three more bodies, close to the edge of the lake. It looked like a scene of carnage – the remaining members of the Golden Trio, lifeless or unconscious on the ground - and Sirius Black! He'd bound and gagged Black, instantly, in the strongest bonds that he knew how to charm, and then he'd turned to Potter, his heart pounding with fear that the boy was dead.

He'd felt for a pulse - the boy lived, and there was no blood, no hex marks – and he'd run his hand over Potter's forehead, but the brat didn't seem feverish, so what had happened? Then he'd remembered that Potter had fallen from his broom, unconscious, during the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match - had the Dementors affected him?

He'd checked on the girl next, and Granger seemed fine, she had no visible injuries, she appeared to be untouched - and then he'd given Black a vicious kick in the ribs. Normally he was above that kind of Muggle thuggery, but not tonight, not when Black had come within a hair's breadth of killing the Boy Who Lived - but Black hadn't stirred, and it was a mark of just how shitty he was feeling at the time that he honestly couldn't care whether Black was alive or dead, although Black seemed undamaged and the money was on Black still being alive.

And then he'd crouched down on his haunches, put his aching head in his hands and tried to puzzle out what had happened. Black must somehow have lured Potter out of the castle, the arrogant upstart brat must have thought that he had a chance of capturing Black single-handed ... and did that parchment he'd confiscated and handed over to Lupin have anything to do with it? Damn that parchment, he should never have given it to Lupin, he should have kept it and shown it to the Headmaster - he'd known in his bones that Lupin was hiding something. And damn Albus for a soft-hearted fool, if only Dumbledore had let him have a free hand, if only Dumbledore had been prepared to look the other way, he would have got the truth out of the werewolf by now. A bout of _crucio_ to soften Lupin up, followed by a dose of Veritaserum - and Legilimency, not the passive kid gloves technique he uses on the students, but the kind of aggressive Legilimency that can leave the subject with a hopelessly scrambled mind ...

Oh, it would have been a _pleasure_ to squeeze the truth out of Lupin, not just because Lupin was a filthy stinking werewolf, but because he was a contemptible weak bastard. And Lupin had been a prefect! The memory had come floating back, Black's voice, _I was watching him, his nose was touching the parchment, there'll be great grease marks all over it, they won't be able to read a word_, while Lupin read a book and pretended that it wasn't happening - and Pettigrew wet himself with excitement.

He'd trembled with rage – and then he'd thought, forget it, Lupin has taken his Potion, and he's up in the castle, curled up under the desk in his office, harmless, a _tame_ wolf ... and thinking about Lupin is just making my head hurt even more ...

So he'd gone back to trying to work out what had happened, OK, Black had lured Potter and his friends out of Hogwarts, and he must have followed them ... and then there'd been a fight, but with no hexes - so perhaps Black didn't have a wand? But how had he been so stupid as to allow Black to get close enough to him to hit him, Muggle-style? And if the Dementors had come, if they'd overpowered Black and the children – why hadn't they taken Black with them?

And if he'd come across Black, why wasn't Black dead - and not just dead, but cut up into little pieces? Because he'd stewed over what he'd do to Black if he ever caught up with him - the _Avada Kedavra_ was too good for Black, it was a quick death and maybe even painless ... no, he'd rip Black to shreds, _Sectumsempra, for enemies_. He'd imagined the gashes in Black's chest, the gashes in the hated face - and maybe Black would beg for mercy before he died, maybe he'd beg like a dog, on his knees. Oh yes, revenge would be sweet when he caught up with Black, because Black had killed Lily - he'd been the one who'd put Lily in danger, but it was Black who had killed her.

He'd run to the Dark Lord with the news of the prophecy, but when he'd realised what he'd done - when the Dark Lord called them together and told them that it was Lily's child that the prophecy pointed to, Lily's child who must die - he'd gone to Dumbledore. He hadn't known what else to do or where else to go, so he'd gone up to the Headmaster's office and blurted it all out to the only wizard the Dark Lord ever feared, and he'd thought it would be Azkaban, but Dumbledore had other ideas - and somehow he'd become a double agent.

Not that he'd ever been in _love _with Lily Evans, sure, he'd fancied her, but she was Muggle-born and his position as a half-blood - if they ever found out about his filthy Muggle father - was too precarious for him to get mixed up with a Mudblood. She would never have looked at him, anyway, not when she had James Potter romancing her - handsome, charming, _popular_ James Potter. And Potter was always the perfect gentleman, too much of a Gryffindor goody-goody to put the hard word on Lily up on the Astronomy Tower after curfew - not like his mate Black, who was an animal. No, he'd never been in love with Lily, but they'd become friends, for what that was worth, when Slughorn teamed his two most brilliant students together in their NEWT year.

And she'd invited him to the wedding, _Severus Snape and friend_, and that had really churned him up, he had no doubt it was genuine because she'd never fuck him around - she wasn't like that, she must have really wanted him to come - but of course he hadn't accepted the invitation. Lucius and Narcissa had been invited, too, because it was a big society wedding - the marriage of the only son of a wealthy pure-blood family to a lovely and talented Muggle-born - not that Lucius was going, either, because he refused, as he put it, to witness a blood-traitor disgracing an old and honourable pure-blood name by mating with a Mudblood.

So on the night of the wedding, he'd gone out Muggle-baiting with Lucius, an impromptu affair, just the two of them, and then they'd gone drinking ... and there'd been a red-haired girl in the bar, well, she was actually a tart, and the hair was charmed or dyed or both, but after half a dozen firewhiskeys she looked OK, so while James Potter was deflowering his beautiful virgin bride, he'd been catching the clap amongst the garbage bins outside the back door of a sleazy dive in Knockturn Alley. And for once he'd been glad that he was a half-blood, he'd seen a Muggle doctor, and avoided the humiliation of having to whisper into the ear of the witch on the Enquiries Desk at St Mungo's, and the fear that Lily would see him - she worked at St Mungo's - and guess why he was there.

So, no, he hadn't attended Lily's wedding - but Black had, he was the best man, he was the brat's godfather, too, and he'd sold the Potters to the Dark Lord. And that was something he still couldn't understand, he hadn't seen it coming – he'd fingered Lupin as the traitor, as the spy close to the Potters who was feeding information to the Dark Lord ... though it seemed that he'd been half right, because he was convinced that Lupin was helping Black to get into the castle.

Sometimes he thought that the Dark Lord had made the same promise to Black that the Dark Lord had made to him - the Dark Lord had promised him Lily, as a reward for bringing the prophecy, the first few words of it, anyway – had the Dark Lord made the same promise to Black, promised Lily to him as a reward for giving up the child the prophecy pointed to? Because it wouldn't bother the Dark Lord to make the same promise to two of his servants ... and he'd always been suspicious of Black. Sure, Black had pretended that he wasn't interested in Lily, he always had a different girl with him every Hogsmeade weekend, but Lily was gorgeous, it had to be an act - because any wizard who said he didn't want to get into bed with Lily Evans was either lying or queer.

And sometimes he thought it must have been the lure of money, position and power – the same baits that the Dark Lord had used on him – because the eldest son of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, _toujours pur_ had been disinherited in favour of his younger brother Regulus - and at other times he thought that Black must have soaked up the pure-blood supremacist crap with his mother's milk and he'd eventually reverted to type.

But mostly he had no explanation, other than that Black was a crazy, vicious bastard – which Black had proved in their sixth year, because if Black had succeeded in his attempt at murder, his mate Lupin would have been handed over to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures for execution, and it would have been expulsion for Potter - maybe even a stint in Azkaban ...

And Black had obviously been the Dark Lord's most prized secret weapon, because not even Lucius had known that Black was a Death Eater – no one had known that Black belonged to the Dark Lord, and although Black had been on the run for nearly a year, there was no word of him contacting any one ...

Whatever, he had to stop brooding over Black, because the highest priority was to get the children safely back to the castle and up to the Hospital Wing - so he'd mustered the strength to conjure more stretchers, though the effort had made him giddy with exhaustion. And then he'd heard the howl of the werewolf, and that had been chilling, because what was Lupin doing running wild in the Forbidden Forest when the Wolfsbane Potion should have been keeping him safe, should have been keeping him under control?

For a moment he'd thought that he must have bungled the brewing of the Potion, it was tricky stuff, hell, there were only half a dozen wizards in Europe up to making it, and he could name every one of them - and then he'd thought about sending a message to Dumbledore by his vixen Patronus. But he'd known that he'd need every scrap of energy, every scrap of magical power, if the thing attacked them - and all that he could think of was, thank Merlin they were out in the open, where he'd get a clear shot at the werewolf. If he could just get a decent crack at the brute, he stood a fair chance of being able to drop it – because the _Avada Kedavra_ will kill a werewolf just as well as a Muggle silver bullet.

Luckily Filch had appeared as soon as he'd slammed and warded the oak doors of the Entrance Hall behind them - and he'd sent the caretaker to fetch Dumbledore while he took the children up to the Hospital Wing. The Headmaster had come at once, and he'd told Dumbledore everything he knew – which wasn't much – and then Dumbledore had taken charge, and it had been a huge relief to allow himself to relax, knowing that Black was safely under lock and key.

He didn't want Pomfrey fussing over him, he was far too wound up for that, so he'd slipped away to his office, where he kept stocks of all the simpler healing potions - his Slytherins knew to see him for treatment for their bumps and scrapes rather than going up to the Hospital Wing, Slytherin dirty laundry was not to be aired for the whole school to see ...

So now he's in his office, mulling it over, his memory would come back, in dribs and drabs, once the Restorative Draught kicked in, but it was like finding a lost object, you have to retrace your steps ... so what had he been doing, what was his last clear memory?

He could remember having dinner, he could remember returning to his office, he could remember checking and adjusting the cauldronful of Wolfsbane Potion, and he could remember brooding over bumping into Walden Macnair in the Entrance Hall that afternoon, he'd nodded politely to Macnair - the man had been the Dark Lord's chief butcher, but somehow he'd had managed to wriggle out of trouble - and he'd known then that Hagrid's Hippogriff was as good as dead.

He'd felt sorry for the poor bloody beast, and for Hagrid, too, because he had nothing against Hagrid, he'd served a couple of detentions with Hagrid as a student, and Hagrid had been decent enough to him, but Hagrid was out of his depth in a teaching position. Dumbledore should have appointed Grubbly-Plank when old Kettleburn retired, she was a hard-faced old dyke, but she knew her stuff ...

Yes, that had been a very unfortunate little incident, and from what he could make out, the accident had been caused by Potter showing off again – he'd actually ridden the creature, got it really stirred up - but Draco had been seriously hurt, and he couldn't overlook that. He'd gone straight to the Hospital Wing as soon as he'd heard what had happened, Pomfrey had done a fair enough job of healing the wound, but there would still be scarring. He'd owled Lucius immediately, and Lucius had, as the Muggles would say, gone ballistic. He'd had Lucius in his office for over an hour, with an Imperturbable Charm on the door, while Narcissa fussed over Draco in the Hospital Wing - not that Lucius had shouted, but it wasn't like him to make threats that he didn't intend to carry out.

He'd thought at the time that the wretched Hippogriff was so much Acromantula fodder on the hoof, and if Lucius was still on the Board of Governors, Hagrid would have been out of both a job and a home - and then Lucius had started going on about Dumbledore's imbecility in appointing a werewolf to the Defence position, because while Lucius might think that Fenrir Greyback had been a useful servant to the Dark Lord, he didn't want that kind of filth anywhere near his only son and heir.

He'd felt a surge of resentment at the thought of Greyback, the Aurors could find the time to hassle _him_ whenever anything happened, they searched his office and his quarters, they checked his wand, _Prior Incanto_ - it happened when Gringotts was broken into, when the trouble started at Hogwarts last year ago, when Black broke out of Azkaban - but they'd done nothing about tracking Greyback down and killing him, the loathsome brute.

Yes, he could remember being in his office ... he'd been waiting for Lupin to come down for his evening goblet of Potion, and he'd been thinking about the Quidditch final, Potter had only caught the Snitch because he had the best broom – one of the new Firebolts, priced at a year's salary for a Hogwarts professor – and it was galling that he'd had to help Filius to strip it down, Filius had been convinced that it carried a Hurling Hex, and he couldn't say no, could he? Not when the safety of the Boy Who Lived was at stake ...

The Quidditch final was a bitter memory, Marcus Flint and the rest of the team had played their hearts out in that match, they'd tried every trick in the book, but it wasn't good enough - the score was eighty to twenty in Gryffindor's favour when Potter caught the Snitch, and the whole school had cheered when the Headmaster handed Oliver Wood the Quidditch Cup. He'd gritted his teeth over that memory – and Lupin was late, the moon would be rising soon, had Lupin forgotten his Potion? And that was another entry in the ledger that he was keeping, though he really couldn't justify a complaint to Dumbledore just because Lupin was late to pick up his potion ...

But then he'd got really worried, and he'd gone up to the third floor, to the Defence teacher's office, with a gobletful of Potion in his hand, hating Lupin for treating him like a post owl, hating Lupin generally, because Lupin was a spiteful, spineless bastard. He hated the way that Lupin smarmed up to him, calling him by his first name, as if they were _friends_ – and the Boggart incident was an act of unforgivable cowardice. Admittedly, he put the knife into Lupin about the Marauders every chance he got, _now that you're back at Hogwarts you must be missing your old friends, Potter and Black and Pettigrew_, although the Headmaster had warned him against saying anything in front of James Potter's son, he'd get more than a rap over the knuckles if he let anything slip in the boy's hearing - but it was disgusting how Lupin had used Neville Longbottom to get back at him, not that he'd eased up on Longbottom, the boy needed to be taught a lesson even if Lupin was the one who was really responsible ...

He'd gone into Lupin's office – the werewolf wasn't there – and he'd seen something on Lupin's desk, something that had caused him to bolt out of Lupin's office, down three flights of stairs, out through the Entrance Hall and across the grounds to the Whomping Willow. He'd found an Invisibility Cloak, he'd remembered the rumours that had floated around Hogwarts that James Potter had one, and he'd remembered how to control the tree – how could he forget? - and then he'd dashed down the tunnel. His chest had tightened a little at the memory of the last time he'd been in that tunnel, but he wasn't sixteen any more, he wasn't afraid of a werewolf - transformed or not transformed.

He'd heard voices from behind the bedroom door – the children's voices, Black and Lupin hadn't killed them yet – so he'd slipped into the room, under the Invisibility Cloak, and he'd been utterly puzzled by what he'd seen. Black and Lupin – no surprises, he'd been sure that Lupin was helping his old friend – but the children were acting very strangely, listening to Lupin telling his sob-story, how he'd been bitten as a child ... had they been Confunded? And Black was slumped on the floor while Lupin did the talking, Black looked a complete wreck, as satisfyingly gaunt and grimy in the flesh as in the wanted posters ...

Lupin had started spinning a yarn about the Marauders being unregistered Animagi, saying that they'd accompanied him on moonlight expeditions through the school grounds and Hogsmeade village, and then he'd started talking about Dumbledore, claiming that the Headmaster's trust meant everything to him, _he let me into Hogwarts as a boy, and he gave me a job, when I have been shunned all my adult life, unable to find paid work because of what I am_. Oh, it was the world's saddest story played on the world's tiniest violin, and it had nearly made him sick to listen to it.

When Lupin started telling Potter and his friends about the amusing little prank that had nearly resulted in murder, when he heard Lupin's lies, _Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel_, he'd boiled with fury - because it had been a lot worse than that. He'd felt the thing's hot breath, he'd been sprayed by its disgusting slobber, and he'd panicked then, because he'd known that nothing less than the Killing Curse would really stop a werewolf and although he knew a lot of curses, he didn't know the _Avada Kedavra_. And, afterwards, when he was safe in his dormitory, he'd burned at the humiliation of being rescued by James Potter - it had been Potter who had held the beast off with _Reducto_ until they could scramble out of the tunnel and reactivate the Whomping Willow.

He'd boiled with fury, and there was no need to wait any longer, he had what he needed – Lupin and Black caught red-handed, caught together, plotting another murder in the Shrieking Shack ...

He'd pointed his wand at Lupin's chest, told the werewolf that he'd known that he was helping his old friend Black into the castle, but not even he had dreamed that they'd have the nerve to use the Shrieking Shack as their hideout.

But Lupin had dared to protest his innocence, he'd said, "Severus, you're making a mistake. You haven't heard everything – I can explain – Sirius is not here to kill Harry -"

Black not here to kill Harry Potter! Black, who'd been heard muttering, _he's at Hogwarts, he's at Hogwarts_, who'd headed straight for the school after he escaped from Azkaban, who'd twice broken into Hogwarts, slashed the Fat Lady's portrait and come within a whisker of murdering Ronald Weasley – it would be laughable, if it wasn't so cruel, because it was going to be a real blow to the Headmaster to know that he'd been betrayed by another one of his precious Gryffindors ...

"Two more for Azkaban tonight," he'd said. "I shall be interested to see Dumbledore takes this ... he was quite convinced that you were harmless, you know, Lupin, a _tame_ werewolf ..."

And then Lupin had laughed at him, said something about a schoolboy grudge ... so he'd bound him, with cords that should be strong enough to hold even a transformed werewolf, and then he'd turned to Black.

Black had snarled at him, but he'd pointed his wand straight between Black's eyes, and it had been gratifying to see Black stop dead, because he would have done it if Black had given him a reason. And he'd wanted to do it, he'd been longing to do it – but he'd kept a grip on himself. He'd remembered what it said in his Ministry file, in the confession that Dumbledore had insisted on, "I enjoy killing. I don't do it any more. I know it is wrong." - and he'd known that he mustn't lose control, the Headmaster wouldn't like it.

Granger had started blithering at him, and Confunded or not, he wasn't taking any nonsense from Miss Muggle-born desperate-to-prove-that-I'm-a-witch Granger, so he'd told her to hold her tongue ...

And then Black had said that he'd come quietly, as long as Weasley brought his rat up to the castle – and he'd noticed that Weasley was holding a mangy-looking rat, it was wriggling and struggling in the boy's hands - but there was no need to go all the way up to the castle, was there? Not when the Dementors were authorised to administer the Kiss ... and they might have a little kiss for the werewolf, too.

But Potter had blocked the doorway, said that Lupin had been giving him private lessons, and asked why Lupin hadn't tried to kill him? Bloody hell, how would he know that? Who can fathom the mind of a werewolf? Though even a werewolf must have more sense than to try to kill the Boy Who Lived under the very nose of Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard in the world ...

And then Potter had _shouted_ at him, and he'd started shouting, too. Like father, like son – the resemblance between the two of them was uncanny – and he'd lost his temper, he'd been ready to hex the brat, nothing serious, just a body bind, when three voices had shouted _Expelliarmus_ - the force of the spell had slammed him against the wall, and everything had gone black.

He thinks, completely disgusted with himself, _the brats hexed me!_ Hell and damnation, he'd let three children disarm him, and one of them a mere slip of a girl! He'd known the children were Confunded, but it still hadn't occurred to him that they could be a danger ... even so, it was an unforgivable lapse, the kind of thing that would have got him killed in the old days. Never mind, when Potter comes to his senses, when the boy realises how narrowly he avoided the same fate as his father, Potter will be kissing his hand ...

And then he thinks, the Minister for Magic will be here soon, Black will get what's coming to him, and Macnair will back at Hogwarts tomorrow with another job to do, another dangerous beast to execute - excellent!

He, Severus Snape, ex-Death Eater and a "person of interest" to the Auror Corps might even get a bit of recognition, that would be nice - and surely the Headmaster won't refuse him the Defence position now that he's saved the Boy Who Lived from a convicted murderer and a werewolf? And Minerva is getting on a bit - perhaps she'll take early retirement and then he'll be Deputy Headmaster, he's Albus' right-hand man, why shouldn't he get the title and the pay that goes with the responsibility?

He snorts a little to himself, because he knows that it's all castles in the air, he's feeling a bit euphoric now that the headache and the nausea are gone, but if he's going to daydream, why not make a proper job of it? With two positions to fill – Potions and Transfiguration – Dumbledore must surely hire at least one attractive witch, a female he can at least fantasise about, because he never, ever lets himself think about girls like pretty Cho Chang – because that wouldn't be harmless, that could take him somewhere dangerous, somewhere that he doesn't want to go.

But as he saunters up to the Entrance Hall to wait for Cornelius Fudge, for some reason he thinks of Sybill Trelawney, all the other staff think she's a tipsy old fraud, kept on at Hogwarts by Dumbledore out of pity, but he knows better – and Trelawney is always banging on about those unfortunates born under the baleful influence of Saturn, and how does she know that his birthday is in January, anyway?


End file.
